The Sunflower
by gabby1017
Summary: When Edward Cullen left his house for the day, he knew what he wanted to do but had no idea he would be changed forever.


**The Sunflower**

 **When Edward Cullen left his house for the day, he knew what he wanted to do but had no idea he would be changed forever.**

 **A/N:** Hi, Everyone. Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah.

This was my entry for the P.S.I Love You contest. Thank you to everyone who voted and helped place me in third for the public vote.

I would like to continue this story once I finish with 'Rescue Ink' and the screenplay. Sorry for the delay with 'RI'. RL is a bummer at times with sick kids and more sick kids.

Thank you for always being a great support. And as always, Beta'd by my queen, Fran Walsh, Sunflower Fran or Frannie. I wouldn't want to do this without her.

This is an E and B story, please be patient.

 **A Week Before … the big day!**

I awake to a beautiful sunny, Sunday morning with birds chirping, bands from the sun's rays dancing through the slats of the verticals, and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee filling my air space; my elixir of cocoa gold is the one that feeds my senses. I feel positive. If it's an indication to good luck, then I will have the stars on my side.

I lazily stretch my arms over my head and yawn. It's the one day I can sleep in and not force myself to write. Yeah, being a writer, I'm my own kind of OCD and follow a daily schedule of the written word. My publisher has me on a book-a-year plan, and should I push myself ahead, she ups me to two. With that kind of unforgiving routine, my time is not my own, to say the least.

My series is that of adventure, hero books for the everyday man. My guy is knee-deep in espionage all over the world, has the strength of ten men and gets the girl in every chapter. He's soft-spoken, wears jeans and T-shirts and has a passion for good food and wine. Like Clark Kent, his average identity is hidden and humble. John Jason Clay is a man of honor, loyalty, and simple means. He inhabits my every waking thought and sleeping dream. J.J.C. has me on the bestseller list for the past six years.

I look down at my stiff, morning cock and sigh. "Sorry, fella, no time for you."

After ten minutes of gulping down some coffee, popping my vitamins, and finding my running shoes, I meet Tanya at the park. She stretches in place all decked out in a hot pink, tank top overflowing with her fake double D's, and very skimpy, black track shorts showing her long, tanned legs and heart-shaped ass. Every man who feasts their eyes upon her, wants her, but once they get to know her, they run in the other direction. She's high maintenance and always wants more. She's a fast-pace, criminal attorney and part-time stockbroker with two real estate businesses and she manages my portfolio. She drives a pale blue Lamborghini Countach that matches her eyes and costs a fortune. She pays over two-hundred dollars for a haircut. Her stylist is 'to die for,' and every body part is fake. She does speak five languages, has a photographic memory, and is fiercely independent. She needs no one.

Well, I think she needs me, I'm her only friend. I think she scares everyone else away. But I know her heart, and it is in the right place.

Me, on the other hand, am alone and I hate it. I want that forever with the house and white, picket fence, two point five kids, maybe a dog and a pool.

Without a word, we begin a safe trot down an exercise path, and I apologize for my tardiness. "I really don't know what got into me. I was up at sixty-thirty, but vegged out in bed."

"Were you lost in thought about your latest book?" She pulls her platinum, blonde hair into a ponytail and adjusts her bra with a smirk on her face. "What has J.J.C. done now?"

"I think he's going to quit."

She stops with her hands on her hips, her long, hot pink talons fan over her sides, and she gives me a stern frown. "Why would you do that?"

"I want to write something else," I casually say.

She points a long finger at me waving it in my face. "Edward, you have six, successful books with four movies that awarded you three Oscars for writing and adaptations," she admonishes and raises her voice to a shrill whine. "Have you lost your mind?"

I shout, "And I have had no time for me, Tan. I need to do something different. My publisher is chewing at the bit for the new book, and I only have three chapters completed. I'm tapped out, dried up, and lost my mojo." My chest heaves grasping for air. "I'm tired."

I run down the path while Tanya catches up. "Oh, boo hoo."

We continue the run in silence until we stop at the fork in the path that where we usually part separate ways.

Tanya apologizes, "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Edward."

"No, it's fine. I surprised you."

"Please, give your decision more thought. J.J.C. is your gold mine. If you want to write something else, then write another book, but don't bite your nose off to spite your face. That's legal advice you need to follow." She pats my cheek.

"Yes, and I know what you charge by the hour. But my contract is still open for this last book, then I can choose to do something else," I defend.

"Just think about it. I'm on your side, Edward, and will advise you for your benefit."

"I know, Tan. I just need a break. It's as though I'm sleeping with the wrong partner."

She smirks. "You have no sleeping partner."

I huff, "And that's what I'm saying, Tan."

She snaps, "I know. I know. All work and no play. You are worn out. Just don't be hasty.

I roll my eyes. "I'll think about it."

She pats my cheek. "Good boy. So, I'll see you Wednesday."

"Of course, you want to try that new restaurant …"

She interrupts, "Yes, Français Sur Le Feu."

I laugh, "French on Fire?"

"They have a waiting list, Edward."

"Well, we don't have to wait. I have reservations for eight," I proudly announce with a smirk.

"That's because of John Jason Clay," she harps.

I kiss her on the cheek. "See you Wednesday." I start to run.

Tanya calls out, "Think about it."

I don't turn and keep running. "Okay."

The next few days I settle in front of my laptop and complete three more chapters. Nothing feels right. I'm claustrophobic, feeling the walls close in on me. I decide to hit the gym to release some tension.

My condo has a great facility with all the amenities. I pass the concierge desk, and Malcolm informs me that the trainer is in the gym.

Walking into the weight room, I see Jake at the far end. We nod at one another, and I turn the corner for the punching bag. I sigh with relief that no one is there.

Just as I finish wrapping my wrists, I see Jake grabbing one of my gloves. "Need some help?"

"Yeah, thanks, Jake."

"How's the book coming?" he asks while tying up the glove.

"It's coming." I drone.

"You don't sound too convincing, man."

"I feel like I'm forcing it." I sigh.

"Anything bothering you? You know, you can talk to me, I won't tell anyone," he offers while lacing the other.

I shake my head. "I'm tired of being alone."

He nods. "Then, you need to get out there and find someone."

"It's not as easy as that sounds."

"It's what you make of it, Edward. What about Tanya?" He playful shoves my shoulder. "I've seen her leave your place at all hours of the day and night."

"We're friends."

He chuckles. "With benefits?"

I frown. "God, no. I've known her for years. She's my polar opposite."

"You protest too easily," he snaps. "She's beautiful."

"She knows it."

"She's very successful."

"She knows it and works harder for more."

"She likes you."

"As a friend."

"That's a start, Edward. You like her?"

"Yeah, we've been friends since we were little kids. Our moms are best friends."

"Ah, see? An 'in' with the family. What else do you need?"

"I need it all. I want to look at her and see a future."

"Why can't you have a future with Tanya?"

"Because we're opposites, Jake. She doesn't like anything I like and vice versa."

"Maybe you need to try," he pleads.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, man. Tanya likes power and is ambitious."

"You're a well-known author. You don't think you have power? Maybe she feels something and is afraid to tell you."

I huff. "Jake, you're wrong there. She's not afraid of anything or anyone. Besides, if Tanya wants something she goes after it with force."

"Okay, but she's there," he says, holding the bag.

I send a right cross and Jake lands on his ass.

I shrug. "Sorry."

I leave the gym feeling loose and at ease, but once I'm in the shower, my cock springs to attention. I try to ignore it, but it has a mind of its own, and it painfully hardens. At first, I scrub my body, wash away my sweat and soothe my aching muscles. But I can't will the beast down. Soaping up my hands, I slowly move one down my length. I close my eyes allowing the water to run over me. Squeezing harder, I hasten my strokes, feeling my heart race as a blind sensation overtake my senses. I place my other hand above the tile and lean forward. I image small, female hands with a strong touch. She kneels before me and deep-throats my shaft. I can literally hear her hums of delight with the slapping sounds of skin on skin. My swollen cock tightens exploding through my orgasm, filling her sweet mouth. I look at this beauty on her knees as her large, dark, coffee-colored eyes look directly into mine.

I startle and stare. Standing straight, I open my eyes and look around in confusion. Where did she go?

Weird.

After drying off and dressing, I decide to make a sandwich and go into my office to overlook the three, recently written chapters.

Overtaken by my words, I almost choke on the sandwich.

 _John settles himself next to the petite brunette curled under the blankets. Her coffee-colored hair fans over the pillows cascading in bountiful waves of soft, heavenly strands. He runs his fingers through a curl and smooths his hand down her curves pushing the blanket to the side revealing her deliciously pale skin._

 _Her dark eyes slowly open with a small grin on her ruby lips. "What took you so long, John?" She outstretches her arms while John cozies himself in her embrace._

"The fuck did I write?" I whisper.

 _Her body is warm to the touch. John slides a leg between hers. "Are you warming up my bed, Lara?"_

 _She deviously smiles. "More like heating it up, John." She giggles._

 _John turns her onto her back, kissing down her neck and squeezing her breasts as his body leans over her. "I'm going to make a feast of you. Spread your legs."_

 _She obeys as John dips his hungry tongue between her readied slit._

"Her readied slit. Where the fuck did that come from? Christ, this reads like a romance novel." I complain.

 _Her deep moans push John on as he flattens his tongue and drags it up and over her clit. Her legs rub against his ears thrusting him further into her. She claws at his shoulders, wanting more, which John readily gives._

"Readily gives?" I repeat in disgust.

" _Oh, John, don't stop. I'm almost there," she cries out, pulling his hair. I read this with a high-pitched voice._

 _John continues his ministrations but watches her face. "Keep your eyes open, Lara, I want to see you come."_

 _She stares at John with want and need. When she reaches her climax, she screams his name._

 _Pleased with himself, John kisses his way to her breasts. He bites and sucks her nipples from one to the other._

" _Oh, John," she quivers._

 _John continues to her mouth and greedily kisses her; spreading her legs wider with his foot and sliding into her wet heat._

"I wonder if this is how E.L. James started." I deeply chuckle.

 _Lara moves in unison with John, as he leans on his elbows cupping the back of her head in his hands. He thrusts hard and quickly gyrates in little circles. "Follow me, baby. It feels so good."_

" _John, do that again."_

 _He speeds up his pace feeling his orgasm start to rise. John massages her clit as he pounds into her pussy. "I want you to come with me." He looks into her eyes. "Can you do that, Lara?"_

 _She bites her bottom lip meeting every plunge of his cock until she screams his name in a gurgled, faded sound._

I delete the pages mumbling, "When did I become such a chick?"

It's Wednesday and Tanya's secretary calls to confirm our eight o'clock dinner reservation. She will be a few minutes late but asks for me to order her a French 75*.

I spend the day away from the computer for fear I will sprout flowers and hearts or little written curly cues. Yet, I do focus on the brunette on my pages.

I fancy her petite stature. She can fit under my arm as I nuzzle her to my chest. Her scent is fresh, wildflowers with a hidden aroma of lilacs. She's beautiful in a natural way with a small waist and curves in all the right places. She's intelligent, well read and articulate.

I seem to create this perfect woman in my head and desire her with a deep need. As much as it pleases me, I feel the loneliness and call my mom. Yeah, she makes things better.

She answers on the first ring and sings out my name, "Edward, you were on my mind."

"Hi, Mom."

"Sasha was just telling me that you and Tanya are going to Français Sur Le Feu, tonight. That's quite a fancy place," she coos.

"Tanya's been talking about it for a while."

"And you wanted to please her?" Mom is a bit too enthusiastic.

"Mom, Tanya's my friend," I defend myself.

"Oh, bull, Edward. I wasn't born yesterday. I know the two of you are _more_ than friends," she accuses.

"Mom, it's not what you think."

"When you don't have your head working on a book, you are with Tanya," she argues.

"Sasha mentioned that Tanya said you two are inseparable."

"Her mother is wrong. Sure, we run every Sunday morning and have dinner on Wednesday nights to discuss business. She is my attorney slash stockbroker."

"Please, Edward, you keep your head in the sand like an ostrich, but you two should be together, together. You've known one another since childhood. You shared the same crib taking naps."

"Mom."

"Don't _Mom_ me. You better make a move, my son, or you'll lose her to some business mogul and then where will you be? Alone!" She growls. "You're thirty-one years old. It's the perfect time for the two of you to settle down."

Silence.

"Think about it, Edward, and do something."

Dial tone.

I huff, "Everyone wants me to think about Tanya." I rub my eyes, exhale a large breath, place my hands on my waist and look up. "I guess a dream girl can't fill a void, I really want, but she was nice for the moment."

Walking into the living room toward the bar, I pour myself a large scotch and knock it all down. Pouring another glass, I walk out the sliding, glass doors and look across my balcony.

Squinting my eyes, the morning sun is bright and warm on my face. I mumble, "Maybe they're all right about this. Maybe I need to look at this from a more practical angle."

I go back to the bar and drink another glass of liquid courage. I pound my fists on the bar, rattling bottles and decide. "Fuck, I'll do it.

I shake my head and don't waste any time making some arrangements.

I arrive at the restaurant an hour earlier. With an open checkbook, I rent one of the private rooms for twice the worth and fill it with wildflowers from azaleas to zenobias. I know Tanya loves color and there are splashes of rainbow bouquets throughout the room.

Since we have a late, dinner reservation, the manager suggests the table should face the French doors overlooking the garden and pond. They have tiny lights throughout the area that would give the room a romantic flare. However, because of the chilliness, I ask for some of the lights to be placed around the room and the doors closed. Tanya despises the cold.

She loves a good champagne, so I nix her French 75 and have a bottle of Cristal Rose chilling in an ice bucket. The table that is set for two with fine white linens, the restaurant's best china, and crystal. In a clear, white vase at the center of the table is a lone sunflower.

The small room is festive with the flowers, but the subtle dim lighting gives a sexual, romantic atmosphere with the added touch of light, classical music playing in the background overhead.

I take one last look around, walk to the front entrance and wait for Tanya's arrival patting the small box in my jacket pocket.

Yes, I did procure a rather beautiful ring from Tiffany's. It a three-carat, marquise with three, round diamonds on each side set in a platinum band with smaller diamonds of one-and-a- half karats surrounding the ring.

I pace around and begin to annoy the waiting patrons, so I excuse myself back to the room. Our waiter for the evening will escort Tanya to me.

Nerves get the better of me since Tanya is already thirty minutes late. Not wanting to open the champagne, I ask the waiter for a double scotch, and he brings it to me right away. I will tip him handsomely for his diligence.

Ten minutes later, Tanya flies into the room apologizing but stops short to take in the decor in a three-sixty spin. "What's all of this?"

"I thought I'd make this special."

"Why?"

"To set the mood,"

She turns to look at me. "Why do we need a mood, Edward? This is just dinner, as usual."

"I wanted to make this a special … night."

"And I'll ask again, "Why?"

"You don't like it?" I ask with trepidation.

"I think it's a bit much for dinner," she grumbles.

"Being that you are forty minutes late, I'm going to assume it's been a hard day," I remove her coat and place it on a chair in the corner with mine.

"It was a hard day, but rewarding. I ask again, "Why all the flowers?"

I frown.

"Tan, I wanted to make this nice for you."

She sees the champagne and her eyes widen. "Champagne? We're celebrating? Oh my God, you got another movie deal, didn't you?"

"Tan, you know all my books already have a deal."

She slowly sits onto the chair, as I pop the cork of the bottle and fill her flute. She takes a sip and hums, "This is good."

"Cristal Rose."

"I know, but why?"

"Why must you question everything? Can't I do something nice?" I grouse.

She smiles. "You always do something nice, Edward. Thank you."

I sit. "You're welcome."

"May I ask a question?" she smirks.

I smirk back. "You already did."

"Smart ass. Do all the private rooms have … all these flowers?" She takes another sip.

"I wouldn't know I just wanted you to have color."

She laughs. "Looks like a rainbow exploded in here."

I change the subject. "So, why were you so late?"

Her face breaks out into a huge smile, and she squeals, "I was made a partner."

I jump up; grab her, spinning her around. "That's great. Tan, I'm so proud of you."

She giggles. "Edward, you know I've been spending a lot of late nights with Aro and Marcus. They've been priming me for this for the past two years. They finally came through."

"So, to Volturi, Volturi, and Denali!" We raise our glasses and toast.

"I'm starving," she moans and grabs her menu off her plate.

As Tanya scours the carte du jour, I peek slyly watching her observing every stitch. Her hair is in an updo twist with every strand in place. Her nails are a clear color with white at the tips much shorter than last Sunday. Her lipstick a pale beige and her long-sleeve dress is a simple black knit to her knees. With the last detail of black, high-heel Louboutin's, I notice her slim legs and then, I realize she's staring at me.

"What are you looking at?" she asks.

"You. You look very nice."

Here comes the interrogation, "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Well, you're not wearing hot pink and tits galore."

"Jesus, Edward, this is work attire. I can't flaunt my lovely attributes in a prestigious, law firm."

I smile. "I bet you'd win every case with your … attributes."

Her eyes pop, but she smiles. "It's not as though you have ever seen me naked, but what is with you? You've been weird since I got here."

I feign innocence, "I have no idea what you are talking about? But I have seen you naked … remember our skinny dipping in the blow-up pool when we were five?"

She rolls her eyes.

We order dinner and eat in silence. Well, not quiet. Tanya moans with every bite.

The waiter removes the plates and serves the Crème brûlée.

My palms get a little sweaty. I have to create a diversion to get the ring on top of the desert. I knock over the bucket and Tanya quickly bends to retrieve it. I place the ring on top of the whipped cream and shaved chocolate. Then, I help Tanya right the bucket.

She questions, "You okay?"

I smile. "I'm okay. Eat your pudding."

Another eye roll.

"Edward, this is so much more than pudding."

Tanya dips in, takes a bite and begins to cough or more like chokes with a gurgling sound. Her hands wave around in front of her face and neck. I quickly move to the back of her, wrapping my arms around her upper waist pounding into her lifting her feet off the ground. Finally, the ring pops out, and Tanya breathes heavily. "What the hell did I choke on? I swear I'll sue these people, the fancy French restaurant or not!"

As I pick it up, I show her the culprit with a shy smile. "I wasn't trying to kill you, I promise."

She holds the ring and stares at it. Then, looks at me. "You … ring … propose?"

"Very good, counselor. That was the idea," I confess.

She slowly sits back down into her chair.

"You all right?"

"What brought this on, Edward?"

I grimace. "Tanya, I've known you all of my life. We know one another. You're my best friend."

She looks bewildered. "I don't understand."

"We're both thirty-one."

"And?"

"And time is ticking."

She sighs and takes my hands. "God, Edward, you know that I love you … but I'm not in love with you. We're friends, but it's not a solid foundation for a marriage."

"Your mother hinted to my mother."

"Oh, dear God. I don't want to throw up. That was the best dinner I've ever eaten."

I shake my head. "I'm sorry."

"I hope I can explain this without hurting you." She gives me a sad smile. "So, all the flowers and music were to set a proposal-mood thing?" She motions with her fingers with air quotes.

"Somewhat. I mean, I know you like a lot of color?"

"I was fourteen when I liked a lot of color, but I'm a grown woman now, Edward. You still think I'm that young girl. I'm not. I'm driven, I like power, and I want to travel more. I can't see myself as a barefoot, pregnant, at-home wife and mother. I can't bear the thought of anything stretching my stomach and leaving marks. I love fine wines and Crème brûlée. You like beer and Jello pudding out of a plastic cup. I adore you, my friend, and what you did to compromise your life to my style is not what I want for you or me. I don't want a husband. I just want to sleep with a few guys with no strings attached. Please, understand marriage is not for me. I don't boil water, let alone cook. I like my manis and pedis. My designer suits and dresses don't accessorize with snotty-nosed, sticky-handed munchkins." She shivers. "I'd lose my shit. This was all so sweet and so you, but not me. Edward, you know all of this. What brought this all on? This is not all about what I don't want. You really don't want this with me."

"I do love you."

"Of course, you do. We're best friends, but not potential spouses. Jeesh, you're like a brother to me."

"Mom got on me that I would lose you to someone else, if I didn't do something," I mumble. "And Jake thought that you might feel something for me, so I thought … why not?"

"Jake, that monster man from your gym? Why would you take romance and marriage tips from him?" She huffs. "Who are you? Where's the Edward I know? Yes, you know me. I'm a self-absorbed, ambitious bitch who has to have the best."

I bow my head.

"No, no, I didn't mean you weren't the best. For someone else, yes, but I can't measure up to you. You need, no, want a woman who will share your life, have your babies and like the simple things in life. You're a romantic, Edward, and you've shown that tonight, here with all of this." Again, she motions with her hands around the room.

She squeezes my hand.

"You're never going to lose me, Edward. We'll always be friends, but …"

I interrupt, "Here comes the but."

"I'm going to London for six months, and then on to Paris for another three. It's all work related."

I smile. "New partner stuff?"

"Yes." She looks around. "This was an amazing gesture."

I nod.

"I'll handle our mothers," Tanya offers.

"Thanks, that would be great. When are you leaving?" I ask.

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"I see."

"I promise to keep in touch; call, email."

"I know."

"We're good?

"Yeah."

"The ring is beautiful, Edward."

"It's all right, Tan. I know it's not big enough."

"On the contrary, it's perfect. You're the one with the heart of gold." She hands me the ring, kisses my cheek, grabs her coat and walks out the door.

I arrive home and place the vase with the lone sunflower on my kitchen table. I sit and stare at it.

"What the hell was I thinking? I allowed my mother to bait me, serve me up to get shot down. And Jake, wait until I get him."

I bang my head on the table a few times. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

I wallow in a little self-pity. Okay, I wallow in a lot. I drag myself to my room, pull off everything but my boxers and crawl into bed. Flipping channels, I watch an ad with a guy asking people on the street for hugs. Now, any other time, I would flip to another channel, but this fascinates me. It draws me in, to the point of sitting up and staring at the TV.

I watch him go from one person to the next hugging them and smiling. I start to smile. It makes me feel good; this one simple gesture to complete strangers. And everyone is happy. People start to line up for their turn.

Then, I think, "What could I do to bring forth a smile?" I don't want to do the 'hug' thing or kiss anyone. And I would rather make one person smile not a street full. Hmm, I think I'll give it a try once I figure out what I can do.

 **The Day of My Epiphany**

The next morning, I awake to a drizzling mist, and I mope thinking I can't do anything in the rain. By the time I get out of the shower, the mist clears and the sun shines like a beacon of hope. There's something magical after everything is glistening with illuminated raindrops.

The sky is blue and not a cloud in sight. There are rainbows sprouting from every window in my condo. All I need to do is find that pot of gold.

Grabbing my coffee carafe, I fill my mug and savor my first jump-start of the day. I rev up my brainwaves in order to get my happiness adventure on the road. I sit at the table drinking my coffee, tapping my fingers and frustrating myself, until finally, I look right in front of me. In the white vase, the single sunflower seems to have fully bloomed overnight.

Man, what a flower it is; a beautiful, golden petal symbol for adoration, loyalty, and longevity. They represent faith, happiness, hope and unity. Sunflowers continually position themselves in the sun's direct path to receive the maximum amount of nourishment, which creates that brilliant yellow color. So, my gift of a sunflower bestows hope. It's natural, and I couldn't make this up.

I'm not sure how I'm going to do this, but I won't go home until I give the flower to someone, yet not just anyone.

I walk along the park area. People sit on benches looking out at the pond, while others ride bikes on the outside of the paths. I stand to one side with the sunflower in the small vase eyeing a woman with a small child sitting on a blanket. She cuddles and coos her sweet infant. Then, I assume her husband sits next to her and kisses the baby. They look happy.

I head out of the park to the main street and think about another coffee, and I stop short. My breath catches and I sit on a bus bench to gaze across the street at the coffee shop. Sitting at one of the outside tables, a petite brunette leans forward, slowly sipping her drink.

I stare at her through my aviators with my baseball cap down and discreetly observe her every movement. Her long, chestnut hair falls past her trim waist and curves over her hips.

She wears tight jeans with a navy blue T-shirt. Her Converse sneakers cross at the ankles as she leans back into the chair. Despite the distance, I can see she is holding back tears.

No longer can I sit, I slowly approach her. "Excuse me?" I softly address her. "Are you all right?"

She looks up with the saddest, brown eyes and looks away. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Ah, I know this may be odd, but I would like to give you this sunflower."

She turns quickly, stares at the flower, then up at me and begins to sob uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry to have upset you." I ramble, "I saw this TV ad about a guy who gave hugs to people to make them smile. I thought it was such a good idea that I wanted to give this sunflower away. You look so sad." I place the vase in front of her, and she gently touches the petals.

She wipes her face with a tissue and gives me a small smile. "I can't tell you what this means to me."

Uncertain, I ask, "Is this good?"

She bites her bottom lip and shrugs. "It's uncanny."

I offer, "Can I buy you a refill? I'm going in to get a coffee."

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

Her voice is a melody.

"Would you stay and wait for me?" I look at her with pleading eyes.

She nods and I rush into the shop.

Once I rejoin her, I introduce myself, "I'm Edward Cullen." I extend my hand and feel her warmth not wanting to let go, but I do.

She shyly smiles. "I know, I've read all of your books."

"You have?"

"Yes, I grew up with a cop for a dad. He would take me to see action movies with all the Bond actors, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Chuck Norris and Steven Seagal. So, when your books went to the silver screen, we went to see them."

I smile, "Wow."

"I have to admit, the sunflower threw me. These are tears of joy in a silly way. When I was in second grade, I was in a pageant. My class did the Dance of the Sugar Plum Faeries to Tchaikovsky's, The Nutcracker. We were all dressed as sunflowers and were told to spin in circles in a group on the auditorium stage. However, I closed my eyes and veered away from the group, and to my embarrassment, I spun alone to the other side of the stage. Everyone laughed, but my father cheered, and soon others cheered with him. When he took me home, he said I was the best sunflower on that stage. He always called me his little sunflower. He died last year, actually a year ago today, and I made it just in time to see him. He called me his little sunflower and said that one day I should expect to get one from a stranger and not be afraid. That I should let that person in. Wild, huh?"

I grab her hands. "More like a premonition." Her warmth seeps through me.

"I thought it was the drugs; that he was hallucinating. Now, I think I am."

"What's your given name, Sunflower?" I ask beaming still holding her hand. I don't want to let go.

"Bella Swan," she answers.

"It's nice to meet you, Bella Swan." I can't take my eyes off her.

She squeezes my hand. "It's nice to meet you, too, Edward Cullen." She has the cutest blush that covers her high cheekbones.

We smile at one another in our little bubble.

"So, Bella, what do you do?" I sincerely ask.

"I own the bookstore, 'Read Me,' around the corner, Edward," she shyly, but proudly says.

I smirk. "Do you have any of my books?"

She holds her head up high. "I have a whole section devoted to action. Your books are on the endcap at the beginning of the aisle with a six-foot John Jason Clay cut-out."

I broadly smile. "You're kidding me."

"No, I'm serious. You can walk over and see for yourself," she defends.

I stand, breaking our connection. "I'd like to see it."

She quickly jumps up. "Follow me." She starts to walk, but stops and grabs the vase. "I can't forget my sunflower."

And I take her other hand.

We turn the corner to a little shop in between a pizza place and a bakery. It looks rather quaint and English. The awning cover has dark green and gold diagonal stripes with the same color fringe. There are two, plate-glass windows with book displays. My newest book sits in the center. It also has two window sills of colorful, wildflowers, four, dark green shutters, and the dark green, wooden entrance door has a long gold "S" shaped handle with a sculpted lion head. Harry Potter would easily fit right in here.

She opens the door, and the delicious aroma of chocolate chip cookies fills my senses. Bella turns to me and says, "The bakery's filter system overflows into ours." She giggles. "We don't mind, especially with the apple pies."

Sure enough, on the right side of the first aisle stands John Jason Clay in his finest. This tribute to my character overwhelms me, and I choke up. Bella leads me to the cutout.

"See?"

"I'm impressed, Ms. Swan, or is it Mrs.?" I ask holding my breath.

"It's Miss."

I exhale a large breath. "Good."

She smiles. "Good."

For the first month, we do the new, dating, "get-to-know-you" thing. We go to dinner, to the movies, text throughout the day and talk over the phone at night until sleep takes over us.

There are many times I awake with the phone to my ear. Sometimes, I hear a slight breath, or I will say, 'good morning' and receive a cheerful 'hi' from my girl. Yeah, my girl, my sunflower who is slowly becoming my life.

I know she's beautiful in every way, but coordination. My Bella is a klutz and not very athletic. Roller skating is off our list of things to do. I can only pick her sore behind off the ground so many times without her blush setting her on fire. I just know she has bruises. But she can dance, and we have many weekends of dinner and dancing. I love to hold her close and smell her fragrant hair.

I'm uncertain what to do about intimacy. I'm afraid to move too quickly, yet I feel I'm at a snail's pace. Tanya says to allow her to tell me when she's ready. Our makeout sessions can be … intense.

So, I ready myself for the relationship talk. I want to label us and claim her. Tanya says I need to do this before I explode and do something stupid. Communication is the best solution. At least, I will know where I stand and what she wants.

She invites me over for dinner to her apartment above the bookstore. I follow Bella up the narrow stairway to a hardwood door. Entering the threshold, we walk through a small hallway that opens up to a spacious area. To the right, I see a small kitchenette with a stainless steel stove, sink and refrigerator, two rows of wood cabinets and a table set for two in the middle. On the other side, there is a tan sofa with colorful throws over the back, a lounge chair, coffee table, and a TV on a stand.

Across the way, an Oriental screen privately hides the bedroom. Yeah, I want to see.

The delicious aromas take over my senses and my stomach growls. "Hmm, what smells so good?"

Bella smiles. "I made a brisket with vegetables, mashed potatoes, fresh salad and homemade bread. I remember you saying you're a meat and potatoes kind of guy."

"You remembered that?" I ask with surprise.

"I remember everything."

We stand in silence, then my stomach growls, again.

Bella giggles, "I need to feed you."

Bella asks me to sit and open the wine. She loads the plates with food and places them on the table. "Dig in."

I fill my fork and take the first bite. The meat is tender and juicy, the potatoes are thick and creamy and the bread and the gravy are beyond delicious. I hum, moan and growl with pleasure.

"I'm going to take it that you like it," she kids.

I nod and wipe my mouth. "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it. And there's plenty more, plus dessert," she teases.

I look up. "Dessert?"

"Homemade apple pie with vanilla ice cream. And should you eat up, I'll give you sprinkles." She smirks.

"Sprinkles?"

"Chocolate sprinkles."

I dive in and finish two huge helpings of everything. "You bake with a bakery next door?"

"I like to bake for special people."

I think to myself, 'I'm special.'

We do the dishes together, sit on the sofa and get things begin to get intense. I didn't need to have my conversation. Bella makes it quite obvious what she wants tonight, and I finally see behind the screen.

Her queen-size bed is warm and comfortable. She is my dream. As a premonition, she goes down on me like Déjà vu. The same ministrations, the same overwhelming high, and when I slip into her, the warmth and tightness are familiar. I can't get enough. No sooner do we get off, we are up again. My fingers link with hers over her head as I sink deeper within, at first, slow and careful hitting every sensitive spot. Her kisses are hungry and needy, and I quicken my pace. The echoes of skin on skin vibrates throughout the room.

I whisper into her ear, "I can't get enough of you."

She whispers back, "Don't stop."

And I don't.

She's my addiction. Her soft skin, her special scent, and her willingness to give me everything.

She is my one.

 **The One-Year Mark**

I think back to my preparations for Tanya, and I laugh to myself. This time it's different. I want this. I clearly see my future and know this is the right decision for both of us.

The manager of the coffee house arranges all my specific details down to the exact timing. I think I'll write a character for her in my next book.

I glance at my phone, and my ray of sunshine should be at the turn of the street … right … about … now.

Yes, she never disappoints.

Wearing those tight jeans and a navy blue T-shirt with her converse sneakers, she has her hair falling over her shoulders and down her hips. Getting closer to me, taking off her sunglasses and placing on the top of her head, she reaches up for a kiss. "Good morning, my love."

"Hey, my sunflower."

"So what's the rush to get a coffee? I have to get ready for your book signing this afternoon. Have you forgotten?"

"Nope, I just wanted to wish you a Happy Anniversary." I smile.

"Aw, you remembered." She looks around. "Our first meeting place." She wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me close. "This was so sweet."

"Come sit down at our table, and I'll go get your tea and my cup of java mud."

She sits and I pretend to get our drinks, but walk out in a quandary. "Bella, they have a new herbal tea, do you want to try it?"

She shrugs. "Sure."

"Do you want me to bring you a sample taste or do you want a cup?"

I see her cogs and wheels turning. "You know, I'll just come in and give it a taste. See if I like it."

I mumble to myself, "She took the bait. Do I know this girl or do I _know_ this girl."

I keep the door open as Bella walks passed me and I see a hint of her expression from the side.

"Edward Cullen, what did you do?"

With her mouth wide open, she intakes the shop and every vase and clay pot filled with sunflowers. There are three-hundred and sixty-five for every day of the year we've been, no are together.

She giggles and places her hands to her reddened cheeks. "Oh … my … God! There are hundreds."

I offer, "Three-hundred and sixty-five."

She turns to look at me. "Oh, Edward, this is probably the sweetest thing you have done. And you've done so many sweet things. Sunflowers for our anniversary. I can't believe you did all of this."

I smile. "There is more."

"More? You have given me a sunflower jungle," she excitedly declares.

"Then, Tarzan has something else for Jane." I pull the box out of my pocket.

Bella freezes in shock.

I get down on one knee before her. "It has been three-hundred and sixty-five days with you, and I've know from day one that I would do this. My beautiful sunflower, Bella, you bring me joy, and you make every day bright and full. You give me encouragement to be a better man, you make me laugh, you allow me to make fun of myself when I have a stupid moment. You complete my sentences, and you're my personal thesaurus making my words even better. I can't imagine a day without you, and I choose not to find out what it would be like alone. I want to wake up to your cold feet and go to sleep with your warm body. I want to marry you yesterday and have babies with you tomorrow. Will you? Won't you? Please, be my wife." I hold up the ring.

Bella kneels in front of me and wraps her arms around my neck. "You wonderfully crazy man, yes, of course." She lunges forward, and we both fall on the floor. "So wordy. So, sneaky. Please, put the ring on my finger."

I sit up with Bella in my lap. Taking the ring from the black velvet box, I place it on her finger, a simple one-carat Tiffany setting in platinum.

"Thank you, it's beautiful, Edward."

She kisses me quickly and squeezes me tight.

"I'm glad you like it," I say.

"I do."

I chuckle, "That's for later."

She calms. "Edward, I love you."

Our foreheads touch. "P.S. I love you." I kiss her with all that I am.

The End … well, their beginning.

P.S. Edward does write Bella a romantic novel.

The title?

The Sunflower.

*French 75 - cocktail made with gin, sparkling wine/champagne, sugar/simple syrup, lemon (or some other citrus)


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